Snapshot
by deceptive-serenade
Summary: I should have never met Dennis Creevey, or his son. He wouldn't have given me a camera. I wouldn't have this crazy, insane desire to take so many pictures of this one girl. It's becoming an obsession. Albus/OC
1. Cures

**Chapter One: Cures**

Fact number one: I need coffee.

This is really bad. I'd addicted to this stuff, and if I don't get any coffee _now, _I'm going to lose it.

You don't want to see me lose it. My eye twitches. My mind goes blank. I can't feel my toes. I shout excessively, obnoxiously and angrily. I will knock anyoneand _everyone _down in my haste to get what I want. I'm Albus Potter; I always get what I want.

Except friends, I suppose. But who needs those?

Fact number two: I am a compulsive liar.

My only friend is Dylan Creevey. His father is Dennis Creevey, the younger brother of Colin Creevey, who died in the Final Battle. Dylan and I met when we were around seven years old, at some sort of reunion.

I guess you could say that was the biggest mistake of my life?

I was just sitting there at the party, looking around innocently. Okay, maybe my older brother James and my cousin, Fred Weasley, had ditched me _again _to plan some humungous prank of theirs (sure. Explode the pudding, guys) and I was pouting in a corner because of it.

Then I noticed there was someone pouting in_ another _corner! And he looked about my height, so I decided he must be my age and therefore, we should be best friends. Unfortunately, at the age of seven and three-quarters, I couldn't distinguish the difference between a loser and a cool person.

I walked over there to the little blonde kid and sat beside him, arms crossed and seething. We ranted how stupid brothers were (he has an older brother as well) and before we knew it, his father was coming up to us and telling us we couldn't mope in a corner the whole time.

So we ate a lot of food; thus, the beginning of a… _remarkable_ friendship.

Fact number three: The Creevey family is the reason I am such a loser.

See, after we ate all that food (it really was a tremendous amount), Dylan's father showed me his camera. I thought it was the most magnificent thing I've ever seen; it was professional, contained about a million settings and most of all, it was _muggle. _

I love muggle things. My grandfather got me hooked onto them, but not stupid things like all those batteries he was constantly collecting; I liked electronics. Even James and Fred had to admit they thought cell phones were, and I quote, "_neat._"

Mr. Creevey taught us all about cameras. Dylan and I found a good balance; he loved to record, whereas I was immediately attached to taking pictures. Over the years, he had taught me and Dylan everything there was to know about cameras, how to develop pictures, different angles and lighting, etcetera.

Mr. Creevey gave me my first camera when I was eleven, just before I left Hogwarts, and until then, I hadn't a clue that people didn't actually _like _having their pictures taken. I clambered on the train, snapping picture after picture excitedly, when I figured it out.

People were running away from me.

Those shouts of "Loser!" were directed towards _me._

Bloody hell. I thought it was only my family who didn't like it!

Fact number four: I used to be utterly clueless.

I can justify this with the fact that when people called me a loser, I didn't catch on that if I had _just _stopped taking pictures at that time, people would've forgotten that I was the nerdy son of Harry Potter, running around with snot-nosed Dylan Creevey and couldn't get a girl for his life because of his camera.

The camera scares people away. And I _couldn't catch on_.

So there I was, this little first year dangling from a Quidditch Hoop (the Slytherins didn't like me all that much) and _finally _realizing what people had tried to tell me. It was a revelation, and I swear the clouds shaped words in the sky:

_People aren't always photogenic._

My imagination was slightly wild, witty and sarcastic. Sue me.

It really was true, however. And once I realized this fact, I decided to stop taking pictures of people altogether. Unfortunately, no one was around to hear my world-changing declaration.

So I hung from that hoop for hours, clutching my camera and wishing I had thought to stuff my pockets with treacle tart, like I usually did.

(I would just like to point out that I don't do that anymore.)

(I really don't.)

(Maybe at bedtime.)

Anyway, I guess that's when I realized the sky exists. Well, not _exists, _per se, but I realized how blue it was. I realized how it stretched across, all the way around the pitch and the castle and the mountains and how it was just _endless _in whirls of blue and eventually orange, yellow, purple and pink.

Yeah, I was just hanging out for the _longest time_… then those Slytherins came back out and laughed at me…

ANYWAY.

Fact number five: I am obsessed with taking photos of landscape.

After that experience, I started taking photos of the scenery around the castle. I mean, have you _seen _this place? It's _incredible_. How could you just stand there and not admire it?

And once I started, I really couldn't stop. This helped me out a little; people weren't really calling me 'loser' in the hallways (except for my brother… gotta love him) anymore, and since Dennis can't use an electronic video camera in the school, we weren't hung from various objects that were hung from elevated heights.

Usually.

I am proud to say that I haven't taken a picture of a person (without their permission, anyway) for five years. It didn't exactly make me popular, but I figured that people already knew I love to take an insane amount of photos, so why not continue?

My logic satisfies me quite nicely, thank you.

Just like my need for coffee: I want it, so I get it. Plain and simple.

So there I was, racing to the Great Hall like every morning and searching the room with a fast pulse, squinted eyes and heightened hearing when _suddenly _–

I saw her.

And I'm not talking about the _only coffee machine in school_ (do coffee machines have genders?).

No, I saw this girl – and I swear: everything stopped moving when I saw her.

It was like this beacon of light had decided to spotlight on her frame (never mind the bewitched ceiling to imitate the sunny day), enhancing every feature of her body, her face. I think the angels were singing from the heavens (of course it wasn't the choir practicing!) that really did it.

She was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen.

I couldn't stop staring. I was probably drooling, for Merlin's sake.

Of course, I could also smell bacon. But that's not the point.

I don't know how long I stood there, jaw dropped, body frozen, gasping at the sight of the glow on her cheeks as she sat at the Ravenclaw table, eating a muffin and reading a book. She just looked _so beautiful._ Especially in the sweats she was wearing.

Just as suddenly as I saw her, the gigantic doors slammed me from behind as some sixth-year, nauseatingly giggling girls stepped into the Great Hall. I toppled over and fell face-first as they seated themselves next to aforementioned girl.

Then, for the grand finale, I saw her _laugh._ It was the lightest, most infuriatingly entrancing laugh I've ever heard. I could probably spend days just listening to it, over and over.

It was then I realized I had a serious mental problem.

But Merlin, I think I had found my cure for coffee.


	2. Lies

**Chapter Two: Lies**

Okay, I lied; I still need coffee.

But that girl… I couldn't stop looking at her. She was entrancing; I had never liked Quidditch all that much (I suspected it had something to do with the whole being-hung-off-the-hoops-when-I-took-pictures thing), but she made it look like the most enticing game I've ever seen.

Yes, I was staring.

I'm not proud of it, but I couldn't help myself; I practically stalked her, watching her in the hallways, over my books as she studied in the library… I just liked looking at her. She's beautiful.

I am so freaking _creepy._

Unfortunately, I didn't quite think of it in that sense. I decided to follow her around (discreetly, mind you) using my dad's old Invisibility Cloak. I wasn't creepy enough to follow her in the bathroom or anything – not _all _males are perverted freaks, thanks – just usually in the hallways, at mealtimes… and this brings me back to Quidditch.

I never really cared all that much for the game. James and Lily, my siblings, were in love to the point of obsession. I suppose I might've been, if I hadn't begun taking pictures at my delicate, young age, but at least _I _never snogged my camera.

I decided I really didn't want to know the reasons behind it after I caught James lip-locking with a Quaffle.

(It was only _slightly_ awkward.)

I tried playing when I was little. I wasn't _too _awful – I certainly wasn't a natural like James, Lily or my father – but it just never caught my interest.

… until I saw that girl play. You have _no idea_ how amazing she looks in the air, her dark hair fanning behind her flawlessly (why she didn't tie it back, I have no idea, but I was thoroughly enjoying it), the fierce determination reflecting in her eyes as she blocked the hoops, her pale cheeks flushed from the wind – yeah. You get the point.

From Quidditch, I followed her to lunch, where made eating meatloaf strangely but somehow mesmerizing. I wondered if anyone had noticed my staring; my mouth was (admittedly, quite embarrassingly) wide open. I also had a slight tendency to poke myself with a fork. After a while, I'd be poking my chin repeatedly without realizing.

She took a bite.

_Poke._

She chewed.

_Poke._

She swallowed.

_Poke._

She let out an adorable laugh.

_(Poking the air next to my face.)_

And sadly, this was not the end of my "observations" of her. From the end of lunch, she spent the rest of her Saturday outside at the edge of a lake, taking advantage of the beautiful day and studying.

For _hours._

Which meant I stared at her.

For _hours_.

Merlin, I need a life.

The sun continuously beat down that day, bursting through the clouds and shimmering across the lake. Normally, this would have been the greatest motivation to capture the moment, but instead I was up a tree.

It's not _that _weird, is it?

I loved climbing trees. When I was younger, I would spend the day reading in a tree in efforts to avoid being targeted by James and Fred. Back when Rose and I still hung out, the greatest connection was our love of books – especially reading them up a tree, eating Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans until we barfed.

Then I found a new obsession and we drifted apart.

Eh, whatever.

My obsession with taking pictures encouraged me to climb trees as well. There was something about the view that made everything seem so much more significant, more _surreal._ It was the sort of angle you'd love to capture, but even the best camera couldn't compare to reality.

That's pretty much what I was thinking that afternoon, crouching on the thick, splintering branches, legs becoming numb, elbows placed on another rotting branch, head poking through the leaves and resting on my hands. I hadn't a clue to how long I was sitting there until I fell.

Yeah, I actually fell. It hurt, but don't tell anyone. Shouldn't Dylan know by now not to disturb me while I'm in a tree?

(Let's just say it's not the first time I've fallen. I really ought to start a record.)

"Al, you really should stop taking pictures in trees," Dylan commented breezily, not bothering to help me up.

"I can't move my legs," I moaned, squinting in the sunlight. "Why do you always do that? I always break my camera when you –"

"Where is it today?" he interrupted, scanning the depths of the grass curiously. "I thought you were taking pictures, it's nice out."

"I was thinking of it," I lied. In reality, I'd just been gazing for a long time, lost in my thoughts. They pretty much consisted of _'Wow…'_

I know, I'm so articulate.

In my defence, there _are_ some other things I was thinking that I'd rather not mention.

"Then why didn't you?" he asked, becoming very confused. "You would've taken hundreds by now." To my surprise, he knelt down and put a cool hand to my forehead.

"What the bloody hell are you doing," I said in a dangerously calm voice, trying to control myself from punching him in the gut. He grinned mischievously.

"You must be sick. I suspect mental illness."

"I didn't know a director was smart enough to be a healer."

"You wouldn't. You're suffering a case of stupidity."

"Get _off_," I snarled, shoving his hand off my head and propping myself up on my elbows. I wiggled my toes within shoes, spreading a sense of relief in me. "I think I've got the feeling back in my legs."

"Not in your brain, unfortunately."

"Shut up."

"I'm sure you've hit your head enough times, having fallen out of a tree so many –"

"You're not funny, Dylan," I grumbled, my bones creaking noisily as I sat up. "What do you want?"

Dylan sat down, looking reproachful as he crossed his arms. "I'm bored." My eyes wandered to the lake as I spoke.

"You're _always _bored. Doesn't mean you have to drag me into the vast complex that is your endless tunnel of boredom."

"It's not like you were doing anything, anyway," he pointed out. "You've been staring into space for hours. Come to think of it, you haven't taken pictures for _days_ – are you even listening to me?"

"Of course," I replied, watching the sun glinting off the girl's shiny, black hair as her quill moved delicately across the parchment. "You want to record stuff, but can't because the digital camera would go haywire around Hogwarts." Dylan blanched, staring at me incredulously.

"_What _are you looking at?" he demanded.

"The lake," I lied easily, not taking me eyes off her. I felt Dylan's sceptical gaze move from me to where I was staring.

"You're staring at that girl," he said in disbelief. "_This _is why you've stopped taking pictures? If you haven't noticed, Al, girls hate us."

"I'm not staring at a girl," I spluttered defensively, tearing my eyes away from her. "What makes you think that?"

"Al, stop lying," he said in a bored voice. "You're staring at that girl sitting by the lake." He suddenly cringed, giving me a thoroughly disappointed look. "You've been staring at her _all _afternoon?"

"I haven't been staring at her, moron," I told him, leaning forward and gingerly putting weight on my legs. "I probably fell asleep or something."

(I didn't.)

Dylan ignored my lie. Damn him. "Do you fancy her?"

"Of course not," I snapped immediately. I stood up, not meeting his eyes. "I don't even know her name."

"You could still fancy her," he said, shrugging and standing up. "Don't get me wrong, she's hot, but –"

"Dylan, I don't fancy her!" I insisted, dropping all pretence. "I mean, I know it looks weird, and I don't know why I keep stalking her, but –" I cut off, my face heating.

Whoops.

"She's a bit of a slob, isn't she?" he observed, glancing over at the lake and ignoring my desperate, feeble protests. "She's always wearing sweats when we don't have to wear uniforms. Plus, she looks like she just crawled out of bed –"

"Shut. _Up._" I narrowed my eyes at him. A smirk grew across his visage.

"If you don't fancy her, then why are you stalking her?" he mocked.

"I wasn't!"

"You just said you were!"

No denying that.

"Fine," I grumbled stubbornly, walking away from him.

"So you fancy her, then?" he called, the smirk this still prominent in his voice.

"No."

"Then what? You wanted to take pictures?"

_No._

"Yes," I blurted out, my eyes widening as I stopped in my tracks.

Did _I _just say that?

"You do?" he asked interestedly. I turned around, faking enthusiasm.

"Yeah," I replied eagerly, thinking as fast as humanly possible. That lie could work, right? I could watch the girl for as long as I wanted, letting Dylan think I only wanted the visual aspect.

To be honest, the thought of taking her picture hadn't crossed my mind before, but it seemed like a brilliant excuse to fuel my newest obsession.

"Then why were you sitting in a tree for hours without a camera?"

Crap.

"Well," I said slowly, stalling for time. "There a simple answer for that."

He rolled his eyes. "Just spit it out."

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, mind racing furiously. "I was studying her?"

"_Studying _her."

"Yeah," I confirmed. "I wanted to do a good job with this, since I don't photograph people often. Right?"

"Right."

"So I was studying her," I continued, making up this bullshit on the spot. "The setting, lighting… angles," I finished uncertainly, hoping he'd buy it. If Dylan thought I fancied this girl, everyone would know within a few days.

Don't get me wrong. Dylan means well, but he hasn't an ounce of social skills. I suppose I've influenced her over the years, yet he still hasn't learned the ability to keep his mouth shut.

And don't forget – I'm Albus Potter. I'm famous, even if I _am _a loser.

"Okay," he said, expression clearing. "Fine. But you're hiding something."

I rolled my eyes. "Prove it."

Better hide my coffee tomorrow morning. Don't want it spiked, do I?


	3. Realizations

**Chapter Three: Realizations**

"What are you doing?"

_Thump._

Okay, so at least I didn't fall out of a tree this time, but who the hell is disturbing me now? I mean, can't they leave me alone? I'm trying to take a picture, here!

Well, that's what I'll tell them if they ask.

I groaned a little, lifting myself from the ground where I fell off the stone bench. I had been practicing my daily routine of _observing_that girl by the lake when I noticed something on the lens of my camera.

Ever since Dylan caught me staring at her last week, I'd been taking my camera with me in case he wanted to check up on me. Which he would. He's that sort of bloke.

Why am I friends with him again?

Anyway, for the last ten minutes, I had been trying to figure out _what_exactly was on my lens. I mean, I broke the thing around ten times a week, but it was easier to figure out what was wrong first.

Until somebody so rudely interrupted me. What, do they have a death wish?

"What?" I asked absent-mindedly, getting up from the grass and brushing dirt off my school trousers. I didn't take my eyes off the camera, which had broken from my fall. Again.

"What are you doing?" questioned the cheery voice. It made me suddenly pause, because there was something seriously something fishy about this.

That was a _girl's_voice.

Did I mention girls never talked to me? I mean, I can't blame them; I never had much to say. I'd get bored within the first five minutes because gossip wasn't my thing. I could care less that we were uniforms in school. Plus, girls just talked so much; it was one reason I didn't really get along with Lily. My sister never shuts up.

So you can imagine my surprise at hearing the feminine voice. Girls have just resorted to avoiding me by now; before, they might've tried to hook up with me, but something always turned them off. Maybe it was the fact that I was bitterly sarcastic and cared more for coffee than for them.

Girls are just so _touchy_sometimes.

I analyzed the voice. It didn't _sound_ like my sister or my cousins – but then again, I have so many relatives, how could I remember what they all sound like? But I was positive it wasn't someone related me; the voice was light and carefree, not quite in a high register. Above, it was _happy_.

Merlin, I bloody _hate_cheery people.

I lifted my head to look at the joyful intruder, fully intending on telling them to piss off, relative or non-relative, girl or no girl. I was_ clearly_busy – couldn't they see that? Except it wasn't any of those options.

Okay, it was a girl – but it wasn't just any girl.

It was _the_girl.

It was Lake Girl.

(Yes, that name has a nice ring to it.)

(Considering I don't actually _know _her name.)

Somehow, in my lens analysis, she had stopped studying and skipped over to me, her brown eyes wide and filled with curiosity. Her hair sparkled from the light shining through the leaves, and I almost wished desperately I was up in a tree.

Because then, there would've been some chance I would've fell and hit my head, thus fainting and would not be experiencing this awkward moment.

She didn't seem awkward, though. It looked as though someone had plugged her and turned on the lights; she was practically beaming and bouncing around, eagerly looking from my broken camera to my burning face. A flicker of concern crossed her face.

"Are you okay?" I tried to answer her question, but it was if a lump of meatloaf or something had gone and wedged itself in my throat, making it near impossible to answer.

I usually_ like_meatloaf. This isn't fair.

"Yeah," I finally choked out, sitting back on the bench and staring down at my camera, shocked. What was she doing here? I've never talked to her in my life.

"So, I was just studying –" she gestured to her things, still sitting at the lake for anyone to take "– and was wondering if you could help me with something." I raised my head and blinked at her, my mind still blissfully blank.

Seriously. What the _hell_.

Is this payback for ogling her all week?

"I'm taking Muggle Studies," she continued cheerfully, running a hand through her black hair. I swallowed at the light reflected, making it shimmer. "I thought, since you've been taking pictures since forever, you could help me with this report."

I blinked again. _Ravenclaw_. Should've seen this coming.

I couldn't find my voice. I swear it had disappeared. I was like that mermaid that Lily couldn't stop blabbering on about when we were little; I probably could mouth things and nothing would come out.

See?

Pathetic.

I continued to stare blankly at her, possibly trying to telepathically communicate to her that my bodily functions had gone wonky in her presence and I couldn't speak. Then again, if I _did_speak, I was positively mortified with the fact that I might've blurted out something like, 'You're bloody sexy and I've been staring at you all week.'

That would've gone over _really_well.

She waited patiently, eyebrows raised and her smile plastered permanently on her pale face. I swallowed deeply but closed my mouth, deciding that, considering our proximity, it would be unwise of me to utter a single word.

This didn't mean I fancied her, or anything. No, I've been having suspicions that she's put me under some sort of spell that makes her pop into my mind at inconvenient times.

Like at night. When I'm trying to sleep.

_Clearly_she wanted my help, so she'd planned the whole thing. Those Ravenclaw's aren't freaking clever, you know; she could've suspected I wouldn't help her, so she put me under a spell that led me to this lake every day for a week. That was completely plausible.

She took me by surprise, however, by playfully knocking on my head. "Anyone in there?"

Ah, forget it. She's much too innocent to be devious.

"Hi," I said stupidly, gripping my camera tightly. I felt the lens break a little more, sending a sharp pain into my finger. I looked down to find a bloody finger. The girl gasped.

"Are you okay?" she asked again, quickly taking out her wand. "Let me fix that." And without permission, she grabbed my hand with her freakishly small ones (her hands are_ tiny_!) and tapped her wand onto my finger. I watched my skin knit back together.

Okay, so that was nice, but _personal space_, woman.

"Thanks," I told her, feeling my throat squeeze tightly as I spoke. She let out a sincere grin, followed by a wicked one.

Crap.

"Now you owe me." I raised an eyebrow and pulled my hand from her grasp.

"I didn't ask for you to do that."

"But I did," she pointed out gleefully. "Come on, I really need help with this one question, and I'm too lazy to go to the library."

I nodded. Totally understandable. "You mean it's just the one question?"

"That's all."

I shrugged, feeling my face burn a little. Maybe I should put on sunscreen or something. "Alright."

"I remember the professor talking about this thing," she pondered out loud, sitting beside me. "When you take a picture with a camera, where does the picture go?"

I tried not to stare at the adorable way her nose scrunched as she thought. And then I tried to ignore that she had just gotten so much closer to me.

(It wasn't working, in case you were wondering.)

"You mean…" I cleared my throat. "Film?"

She snapped her fingers, smile bursting through her eyes. "I knew it was something like that! Thanks!"

"You're welcome," I said, shifting uncomfortably and looking at my camera again. The whole bloody thing was practically worthless.

Thank Merlin for magic.

"Sorry for making you fall," she said guiltily, although not looking the part. "I didn't mean to make you break your camera."

I shook my head. "Dylan makes me break my camera all the time."

"You know, I don't understand why everyone thinks you're creepy," she said, leaning back on her hands and looking at me. "You're not."

"I'm not?"

"Nope," she said, giving me piercing look. I felt very odd; it was as if everything had flipped for a moment. This girl was observing _me_.

This _is_creepy.

"You know what I think you are?" she asked, reaching over and boldly tapping my nose. She didn't bother to wait for an answer. "I think you're misunderstood."

"Tragically," I answered automatically, trying to shake off the tingling on the top of my nose where she had touched me. She let out laughter that sounded as if it had enwrapped in my ears. Really, it's all I could hear.

"But you are!" she exclaimed, looking up at the leaves. "It's sort of how my friends sometimes see me. They think that I dress lazily." My eyes immediately swept over her body again for the countless time that day. She was dressed in a t-shirt and sweat pants.

"I don't think you dress lazily," I said honestly, bringing my eyes back to hers. She snorted.

"Perhaps," she answered, "but there are more important things than fancy clothing."

"Like what?" I asked, craving her voice.

"Like…" she turned her head towards the water, her gaze softening as her eyes fell on the small, sparkling waves. "The lake. It's just so majestic, see? How does the way I dress compare to that?"

I smiled. "I get it."

"And it's not like I'm_ that_lazy," she continued contentedly, "but my friends don't understand why I'm always out here. I love being outside."

"Me too," I agreed, thinking of my adventures. I almost never took pictures indoors. Suddenly, she stood, bouncing on her heels. I felt compelled to follow suit.

"Thanks, Albus Potter," she told me, surprising me by giving me a friendly hug. "I'll see you around." And as I watched her skip away and back to the edge of the lake, where her books lay, I tried not to imitate her.

(Guys don't skip around happily.)

Instead, I sat back down and stared at the broken camera, trying not to think about my burning face, my tingling nose, the meatloaf still stuck in my throat and something beating madly in my chest.

What _is_that, anyway? Is there a miniature hammer, just thrashing away –

Holy crap.

I think I just realized my heart exists.


	4. Questioning

**Chapter Four: Questioning**

"You're staring _again_?"

Dylan should go die in a hole.

(I hadn't had my coffee yet.)

"Seriously, Al?" Dylan asked in that annoying voice of his, sitting down on the bench beside me. "I mean, she's pretty, but not _that_–"

"Do _not_finish that sentence." I tightened my grip on my camera, wondering whatever possessed me to go out and sit here while the-girl-who-never-freezes-in-the-cold took her favourite spot at the lake again.

This stalking thing is going out of control. Giving up my coffee is no laughing matter.

"What's so special about this girl?" he continued, bothering me with the incessant questions.

"There's nothing special about her." Besides the way her hair shines in the sunlight, how she crinkles her nose when she writes, how she has the ability to focus for hours at a time without being distracted, not to mention that she likes nature and somehow it's absolutely_ perfect _that she thinks she's lazy.

Besides that, she's nothing special.

Merlin, I don't even know her name.

"Well?" Dylan's voice cracked through my trance and my head snapped up, face burning as the icy wind slapped it.

"What?"

"What's so special?"

"Didn't I just answer this?"

"You tuned out for a bit," he explained, an inexplicable smirk appearing on his face. "Seems you were actually thinking for once."

"Surprised you noticed, with your attention span."

He rolled his eyes. "Seriously, though. What were you thinking?"

"Nothing!" I replied much too quickly, standing up and reluctantly tearing my eyes away from her to make my way back inside. "She's just…"

"Eye candy?" he put in before following me. I scowled. "Look, Al, you might be the one of the only guys in this school who's actually interested in her."

This surprised me. "Why?"

"She doesn't make herself appealing, does she?" he pointed out. I glanced behind me at her, searching for what exactly was so unappealing about her. She still looked perfect to me.

Dylan's a bloody liar. He must be.

"She doesn't do her hair up every day. She doesn't wear fancy clothes on the weekends. All she does is sit at the lake. She doesn't flirt with guys. She's plain."

I rolled my eyes, feeling slightly stung. "I don't know what you're trying to achieve."

He held up his hands, stumbling slightly as he did so. "I'll just telling you the truth, here. She may look ordinary, but she's still way out of your league."

"I wasn't aware there was a league in trying to take a picture of the bird."

"Don't lie to me, Al," he said in that knowing voice that irritated me so much. "You fancy her."

"Dear Merlin, I do not!" I insisted as we entered the courtyard, kicking a nearby stone a few feet away. Dylan's smirk was permanently etched onto his face.

Annoying little git.

"I don't know why you keep denying it, honestly," he said, wiping his nose on his sleeve. I cringed, averting my gaze to push open the vast doors of the school.

"That's disgusting, Dylan." He gave me a surprised look.

"What's disgusting?" he asked, confused. He searched around him, nearly tripping over the marble floor of the castle.

"You always wipe your nose on your _shirt_, for Merlin's sake –"

He instantly relaxed. "It's just you around, no one's going to care."

I grumbled a little. "Sure; just scar _me _for life, yeah?"

"Anyway, before your little _interruption_–"

"If you_ listened_ to my interruption, you might actually have people who don't run away from you."

"– it's about_ time_ you showed interest in a girl," he continued, ignoring me completely.

"I have interest," I said immediately, looking distastefully at him.

"Other than a few snogs before they get to know you, I mean."

I made a face, listening to our clanging footsteps on the stairs. "That's interest enough."

"Though snogging is interesting, it's nowhere near_ this_." He stopped at the top of the staircase, absent-mindedly shooting his middle finger at a particularly loud and rude passing Slytherin, as the while having some sort of epiphany. "Al, do you realize what's happened?"

"Yeah," I said, narrowing my eyes at the brunette that had passed. "He has his back turned – d'you reckon I could hex him from here?"

"Al!"

"Yeah, I think it's too late," I said bitterly, stowing my wand back in my robes. Dylan rolled his eyes.

"You have an obsession. _Another _one." I turned back to him, very tempted to hex him with his back turned.

"Excuse me?"

"Al, you get obsessed with the weirdest things," he said matter-of-factly, barely listening to me anymore. "Coffee, lying, cameras, mountain scenery –"

"Get to your point."

"– and this girl." He grinned. "And you don't even know her name."

"I don't even have an obsession with her," I disagreed, walking away from him. He jogged up behind me, grinning like an idiot by this point.

"Acceptance is the first step, my friend." We wandered through the halls, my hands stuffed in my pockets and Dylan uselessly trying to convince me.

"I accept that I'm trying to take a picture of her."

"And you haven't even _talked _to her!" he pointed out suddenly, face lighting up again. "I mean, how pathetic can you get –"

"I have." His eyes widened.

Aw, shit. Now I have to explain it to him.

Why would anyone bother explaining something to someone who has visible boogers on his sleeve?

"You really have? You got up the guts?" His eyes were bigger than dinner plates; I briefly wondered what would happened if I poked them.

"Nah, she talked to me." His eyes grew even bigger, if possible.

If he says something irritating, I'm going to poke him.

"She talked to _you_?" I felt rather insulted, finding myself resisting the urge to plunge my wand into the whites of his eyes.

(I often find myself trying to resist urges such as these.)

"_Yes_, she did," I replied scathingly, making my way through the Great Hall, directing myself towards any coffee I could grab off the Gryffindor table. "She didn't notice I was staring."

"What did she say?"

"She just had a question about film." I shrugged nonchalantly, but there was something tingling in my abdomen. I quickly poured myself a cup of the murky, brown water and took a large gulp that scorched the inside of my mouth.

Anything to get that weird, tingly feeling out of my stomach.

"There was something else." I observed Dylan carefully, eyebrow raised. Funnily enough, he was a lot less irritating after I had taken a few sips of the caffeine. "I know that look. She said something else."

I sat down at the table, carelessly swinging my legs over the bench. "What makes you think that?"

"Well, first," he began, sitting beside me and grabbing a doughnut, "you didn't deny it."

"Your point?"

"Second," he said, mouth now full of the sugary substance, "you're grinning like an idiot." It was my turn for my eyes to widen.

Really? Was I _that _obvious?

Bloody hell! I've turned into a girl!

"Shit," I muttered, stuffing my mouth in my half empty cup. "I couldn't even tell."

"I'll get rid of it," he offered, "but you have to tell me what she said. Was it along the lines of 'you're a freak'?" I scoffed.

"No," I said reproachfully, my voice echoing in the off-white mug. "She said she doesn't understand why I'm labelled as one. She said she's misjudged. She said –" I definitely felt the muscles in my face move at this one "– she loves nature."

He swallowed and let out a low whistles. "Merlin, you fancy the pants off her. Practically in _love_with her."

"I'm taking a picture," I snapped, slamming the mug down on the table.

"Where_ is_ the picture?" he asked, looking at the camera pointedly from where it was hanging from my neck. "Have you taken one?"

I ran a hand through my hair. "No," I admitted grudgingly. He laughed, waving a piece of the chocolate doughnut in my face.

"Thought so."

I snatched the doughnut and took a bite, downing it with my coffee as I turned away. "I'll take the picture."

"You sure?"

"_Yes_." I guess I oughta actually do it. Anything to get him to shut up.

"I'll come back and check, you know."

"I know," I said through gritted teeth. "Get out of my face."

"Alright, you love-struck git." With that, he kicked me in the groin, successfully removing the goofy grin off my face, as Dylan promised. Unfortunately, I had been drinking coffee, and that proceeded to spill onto my lap.

Double pain. Thanks for that, Merlin.

At least that stupid tingly feeling is gone. I reckon it's the doughnut that did it.


	5. Repetition

**Chapter Five: Repetition**

I have a problem.

A big issue.

It's really bad. And problematic, if you hadn't noticed.

I'm not quite sure how else to emphasize this. I HAVE A HUGE PROBLEM I CAN'T SOLVE.

(And Dylan? I can quit coffee anytime. Shut up.)

But no, this isn't about coffee. It's not _exactly_about my obsession with staring at that girl… I guess it's more about the fact that I promised Dylan I'd take a picture of her.

And I tried to keep my promise – honestly, I really did. I trekked up to the freaking lake _again,_intending on climbing a tree, sneaking through the leaves and taking the bloody picture.

And then maybe spend my time watching her for the rest of the day.

(Shut up.)

So I climbed the damn tree, cringing every time a twig stuck itself through my camera and various parts of my body. Yet, just like every other time I've been here, someone interrupted me, just as I was settling myself on a branch.

And I fell.

(Quite predictably.)

Honestly, this is just getting a little repetitive.

I screwed my eyes shut and waited for the hot flash and blinding pain to my head and the sound of my camera crushing into a thousand pieces – but it never came.

When I opened my eyes, I realized that somehow, incredibly, _miraculously,_I was hanging upside down from the tree. And who was in front of me?

Lake Girl.

(I really need to learn her name.)

"Shit!" I said loudly, my camera swinging back and forth from the strap on my neck. I lifted my head a little to see that my legs had tangled themselves in the branches – and were clinging on for their dear lives.

I exhaled loudly. It wouldn't been easier if I'd just fell. It was quick – perhaps not _painless,_per se – but it was uncontrollable, and I wouldn't have the choice of hanging on for my dear life. Falling would mean it was over with.

This, however, was different.

I twisted my neck to look back at Lake Girl, and the sound of shattering glass told me the strap for my camera had slipped off my neck. I swore again, and she laughed.

Well, I'm glad _she's _amused – whoa.

Did her laugh always sound like that?

Merlin, I could listen to that all day.

"Are you going to come down anytime soon?" she asked, still giggling.

"Nope," I answered, feeling gravity's pull as the blood rushed to my face. I lifted my head to glare at my legs, which, clearly, had a mind of their own.

"Well, climb back up," she suggested cheerfully. I lifted my torso and attempted to reach for the branch above me, but I couldn't.

I literally couldn't reach the branch. I didn't bend that way.

Well. This really is embarrassing.

"I hate my genes," I muttered, glaring at the scrawny body that I had inherited from my father. Unlike my older brother, James, I wasn't strong enough to pull myself up, nor did I have enough guts to just let myself fall.

Merlin, what did I ever do to you?

"Do you need help?" she asked. My gaze locked with hers again, and I felt more blood rush to my head – if that was somehow possible.

I don't need help from a _girl._

Especially not this one.

"I got this," I assured her, my voice cracking horribly. She chuckled as I tried to stretch myself towards the twisted mass of twigs, but it felt like something was holding me down.

If Dylan was here, he'd tell me it was my fat head.

Thanks, mate. I appreciate it.

"Honestly, Albus, I can help –"

"No, no," I insisted, collapsing back down, swinging slightly. I felt like a freaking _monkey._"It's fine –"

"I know you want to protect your so-called manly reputation, but I don't exactly want to wait all day for your legs to get tired," she bit out, clearly becoming irritated with my stubborn attitude. At her words, my legs immediately began to weaken.

"Shit," I gasped again, slipping a dangerous inch. She peered at me, her face coming closer and closer to mind.

Merlin, she's pretty even when she's upside down – NOW IS NOT THE TIME.

Focus Al, focus.

"Do you want help, or do you want to fall?" she demanded, her stunningly beautiful brown eyes burning into mine. I swallowed my pride, and not to mention the damn meatloaf that had stuck itself back into my throat.

"Please?" Wow, I never say 'please.' See what she's doing to me?

(Or maybe I'm just desperate.)

(Keep your snide remarks to yourself.)

She grinned triumphantly before ducking underneath me, small hands pushing my back upwards and towards the branch above me. I was almost there when the worst possible thing happened: my legs gave out.

Actually, that definitely wasn't the worst thing that could've happened – but I assure you, what happened was pretty close.

I fell on her.

And when I did, she collapsed onto the ground, back-first.

I have never been so angry at the lack of muscles in my legs.

"_Shit_!" I swore for the umpteenth time as my body landed on top of hers. She let out a strangled cry and let her head rest onto the grass behind her. Bits of my broken camera (thankfully, as I found out later, no glass) were poking into her back.

I scrambled off and knelt over her, snapping my fingers in her face, trying to get her to open her eyes. "Err… hello? Wake up!"

(I _really_need to find out what her name is.)

She gave a small smile at my words, and I let out a sigh of relief. Quickly, I lifted her back and waved my wand, letting the pieces of camera shoot out from underneath her and back into a formation of my camera. She kept her eyes closed as I put her back down, breathing deeply.

I tossed the camera aside, feeling panic rise within me. Why wasn't she getting up? "Are you okay? I'm really sorry – I didn't mean to do that. Usually when I fall out of a tree, I don't hang on, and I really hope I didn't hurt you –"

She broke off my rambling with a light laugh. "Bloody hell, I didn't know you cared."

Cared?

For _her_?

Ha. As if.

I kept silent as she opened her eyes, sitting up slowly and taking care to suppress any wincing. I twiddled my thumbs, feeling guilty and incredibly awkward at the same time.

Emotions. Who needs them?

I was rather enjoying being passive.

She let out a long breath and pushed black locks off her face. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"That was sarcastic," she informed me. I felt a corner of my mouth turn upwards, and I knew I must've looked like an idiot.

No big deal. I mean, she's okay, and that's what matters – right?

(Oh dear Merlin, what has happened to me?)

"I think I'm fine. Come on," she said, cutting through the awkward silence. She gingerly stood up, motioning for me to follow her, when I really just wanted to run away and block this particular memory from my mind… but I really couldn't bring myself to say 'no' to her.

Damn.

"Where?" I asked, somewhat grudgingly.

"Well, I saw you climbing the tree," she explained, watching as I picked myself off the ground, grabbing my camera in the process. "Thought you could sit with me."

"Do you have another question?" I asked, following her to her spot at the lake. "About cameras, I mean?"

"Not at the moment," she admitted, sitting on the patch of grass and pushing her stuff so I could plop down beside her. I felt a little odd, sitting there; for two weeks, I had watched her in this exact spot, memorizing every single aspect about her.

Never had I thought I'd actually be _with_her, right there.

No way in hell was I running away.

"So what did you want me for?" I asked, immediately regretting the way I worded my question. She laughed, not seeming to mind.

"I dunno," she answered honestly, stretching her legs out in front of her. "I was kind of lonely. And you were by yourself."

I leaned back on my hands, trying to slow my heart (which was going crazy in my chest, in case you cared to know) by discreetly taking deep breaths. "Where are your friends?"

"Hmm?"

"Friends. Why don't they sit with you?" I asked curiously. She snorted.

"They claim to have '_allergies.'_" She spat the word, clearly thinking of… _fond_memories as she scoffed. "They never sit with me out here."

"But then…" I wondered it out loud, trying to figure her out. "You could always sit inside with them when you're lonely."

"Couldn't stay inside on a day like this," she said, smiling and bringing her hands back, mirroring me. I nodded in agreement.

"Guess not." She was silent for a moment, thinking. Then she slapped a hand to her forehead.

Well, that was random.

"Crap," she moaned, closing her eyes. "You probably don't want to sit with me."

What?

"I mean, I practically dragged you here," she continued, and for some reason, looking embarrassed. I looked at her in disbelief.

"_I fell on you_."

"It's okay, though!" she insisted, sitting up and looking at me. "Really – I was joking when I said you owed me."

"But…" I was at a loss for words. I had wanted to leave before, but now that she'd moved past all the awkwardness? The last thing I wanted to do was leave.

"I'm sorry," she said sincerely, looking dejected. She pulled up the nearest textbook in her lap and bit her lip, blush blooming across her pale cheeks.

Whoa.

I've never seen her _blush _before.

My mouth literally couldn't form words as I stared at the sight before me, absolutely amazed. When she didn't hear me leave, she looked up.

"You can go now." Her voice was still laced with disappointment. My mouth hung open, still observing the colour in her face. It was just so _pink._

She snapped her fingers in front of me. "Al."

I started. "Yeah?"

"Leave." I shook my head.

"Nah, you want company."

"But –"

"It's fine," I assured, trying to smile without it looking ridiculous. "I don't mind." Her smile returned to her lips and the blush disappeared as she went back to her old, confident self.

It was odd, that blush – but in that moment it faded, I realized, selfishly, that I wanted to see it again.

But first, I had a picture to take. Damn, I had forgotten all about it.

I felt the creeping sense of alarm as she jabbered on. What was I supposed to do now? How on earth was I supposed to take a picture with her sitting when she's _right beside me?_

And you know what? I kind of wanted to take a picture of her blush, now. I mean, something like that is just… something I'd actually _want _to preserve. Because it's so rare.

But… there is still that little fact that she'd notice.

I mean, she'd notice if I just pressed the button in her direction. And then, just like the countless people I've known at Hogwarts, she'd run away. Why would she be any different?

This is bad.

This is _really_bad.

And thus: my problem.

My big issue.

(And I can still quit coffee anytime.)


	6. Suggestions

**Chapter Six: Suggestions**

Nevertheless, I'm not normally that dramatic.

I insist I was not _panicking_; I'm Albus Potter. I don't panic. I don't deal with confrontation; have you ever seen me in a fight? I'm absolutely useless. I just don't… _think_ about my problems.

I also supposedly don't have mini heart attacks, either.

That's what I determined they were. They kind of hurt, they were really loud, my palms would become sweaty, I couldn't speak properly – what else could it be?

Mini heart attacks.

(My logic suits me quite nicely, thank you.)

I had been experiencing these attacks quite frequently those days. Lake Girl had taken to dragging me to sit with her whenever she spotted me outside – which, considering my "observation" habits, was rather often.

This girl literally never shuts up. I think she has some sort of problem with awkwardness in general, because whenever she sensed one coming on, she would blurt out random nonsense. Most of the time, however, she would talk about _homework._

Seriously.

You'd think I would've expected it from a Ravenclaw, _but_…

I didn't mind, though; I didn't contribute to the conversation much (damn that meatloaf stuck in my throat…), but she _loved_ to talk. She wasn't overwhelming in the slightest; it was kind of nice to sit with someone who doesn't insult you every two seconds.

We weren't _friends_ or anything, though. Don't be ridiculous.

Unfortunately, I still had to take a picture to satisfy Dylan. I wasn't going to admit that I fancied the girl anytime soon (because I _don't_), and since I was intending on continuing my "observation" habits, I had to take the picture so he'd leave me alone.

Although, my habits had gotten a lot easier since I began sitting with her. Suddenly, I had gone from peeking from behind leaves to sitting beside her and outwardly staring right at her and pretending to be looking at the lake whenever she glanced at me. She was up _close_, too.

She's much prettier up close, that's for sure. Her freckles are –

Never mind.

But I couldn't take a picture of her from up close. Do you know how many people that have run away from me upon seeing my camera? Sure, Lake Girl hadn't run away – in fact, _she _had been the one to approach _me_ – but it doesn't mean that she wouldn't scamper off at the first sight my camera being directed towards the girl.

So I had taken to hiding in bushes with Dylan. And before you consult your dirty mind, we were spying on Lake Girl so she wouldn't see me and call me over, and Dylan just tagged along because… well, he's annoying.

"Take it already!"

Like now.

"Dylan, I can't just _take it now_," I told him, ducking lower and trying not to let my eyes glaze over. "This isn't right, we need to get closer."

"Al, we've been in _five bushes _already, just take the –"

"What are you even doing here?" I snapped, turning on him. He shrugged and grinned.

"I was bored."

"_Again_?" I groaned and shifted a little so my leg wouldn't fall asleep. "Dylan, you need a hobby."

He pretended to consider it. "You're right," he declared loudly, making my eyes widen. "Maybe I should stare at girls by the lake for hours at a time, or hide in bushes trying to –"

"_Shut up_!" I whispered fiercely, slamming a hand over his mouth and ducking further into the bush. "What if someone heard you?"

Dylan forced my hand off, laughing freely and _noisily_. "They'd probably think we had some gay relationship –"

"You're an idiot," I decided, muttering and poking my lens through the leaves and branches before peeking through. "There's just something _wrong _here…"

"Have you ever considered it's the fact that you won't admit you fancy her?"

"I _don't._"

"Says the one trying to take a picture of the bird for _two weeks._ And you still don't know her name."

"You suck." I put my finger to the silver button, but couldn't take the picture. The angle was all wrong; we weren't close enough, the sun was hidden in the clouds again and her hair was hiding her cheeks and freckles again.

"Okay, I'm moving." Dylan groaned but followed me as I glanced around, jumped out of the bush and rolled/crawled over to the next one. It was only five feet away and beside her, so this time, if we talked loud enough, Lake Girl would be able to hear us.

(A gag for Dylan would be helpful right about now.)

"How's this?" he asked, and I shushed him with my hand. Okay, so this was _slightly_ better – I think we were close enough. Unfortunately, the sun still hadn't come out of the clouds, and she needed to move her hair back so I could see her face.

"Dylan," I whispered suddenly, spinning on my knees to look at him. "Help me."

"What do you think I've been trying to do?" He put a hand on my camera to lower it, looking me straight in the eyes with an understanding expression. "You've got mental issues. I know."

I didn't even listen to his insult. _He was touching my camera._

No one touches my camera. _No one._

(Except for me, obviously.)

(Besides, do you know how many times this git has wiped his nose with his hand?)

Even Dylan realized he had done something wrong and quickly retracted his hand. I took a deep breath and mustered the scariest glare I could, bursting with loathing and protectiveness.

And I think Dylan was about to burst into laughter.

Prick.

"You know what?" I whispered as he collapsed into silent chuckles, "I need your help. And you're the one who got me into this, so you'd better agree."

"But –"

"I need you to go and distract her," I instructed, glancing back in her direction. "Make sure she turns around. Don't stand too close or in the shot and keep talking if the sun is still hidden in the cloud."

Dylan's laughter and smirk had slid off his face completely, leaving an expression of utter dismay. "Al, I don't even know her."

"Also, make sure she puts her hair back."

"_Al._" He sat up, looking me straight in the eye. "Are you out of your mind?"

"You're the one who wanted me to take the picture," I said firmly, dropping my camera so it was held up by the strap around my neck, "so _help me_."

"You're mental, you –" Exactly what Dylan thought of me, I never figured out; I pushed him with my now free hands and he tumbled backwards and out of the bush. He leapt up and stared into the bush with pleading eyes.

"Go!" I whispered. He shot me a glare before dusting himself off and wandered off, before making a detour back to Lake Girl. He cleared his throat, still several feet away from her, like I asked.

"Oi, you by the lake!"

… fail.

She didn't even acknowledge him; she was too deep into her work. Dylan shot the bush an apologetic look before striding over and tapping her on the shoulder. She jumped a couple inches in surprise before giving Dylan an expectant look.

"Yes?"

"Hey," he blurted out cheerfully, making her smile a little. "Nice day, isn't it?"

She nodded, putting her quill down on the parchment in her lap before fully turning around to look at him. Perfect. "It's beautiful."

He took a couple of steps back and sat down. Once he had settled himself on the ground, he gave her a sceptical look, tapping his chin with a finger and observing her.

What the hell?

The sun was coming out of the clouds as Lake Girl gave him a funny look. "What are you doing?"

"I'm thinking," he said dramatically, tilting his head a little. "How do you survive with so much hair?"

"_What_?" Her question echoed my thoughts, and I squished my eyebrows together. What in name of Merlin's pants is Dylan talking about?

I grabbed at my camera poked my lens through the bush before seeing Dylan's smirk flash onto his face. "I mean, it's a beautiful day, but it's pretty hot out today."

She seemed to become even more confused at his sentiment. "And…?"

"So all this hair you've got!" he exclaimed, waving his hands haphazardly. "Look at it! It must be so heavy!" I had to stop myself from snorting.

Really, Dylan? Is _that_ how you're going to get her to put her hair back?

(Ten galleons says it doesn't work.)

Lake Girl laughed nervously. "No, not really…"

"But don't you _sweat_?" She wrinkled her nose in this sort of adorable way. "I mean, on the back of your neck, just because the hair is always concentrated… there," he finished awkwardly. I could practically hear him cursing my name in his head.

She blinked. "It's not that bad, Dylan. Why do you ask?"

"It's just that you never put your hair up," he emphasized, grasping at straws now. "You must get really hot –"

"Dylan, don't take this the wrong way," she cut across, biting her lip in efforts not to laugh, "but are you and Albus gay?"

Our mouths dropped simultaneously. She hurriedly tried to cover her mistake.

"Not that there's anything wrong with that!" she insisted, holding her hands up. "I'm just wondering, since you and Al are always together and you're talking about hair and it's just –"

_Bloody hell._

If Dylan doesn't fix this, I'm going to kill him.

"No!" Dylan choked out. "No, Al's even been in love with this girl for two weeks!"

BLOODY HELL.

(And may I repeat that I do _not_ like her, let alone _love_ her!)

She broke into an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I just had to ask…"

He grumbled. "Your hair's just freaking annoying – I mean, annoyingly hot – _sweaty_." Dylan's expression clearly said he didn't want to be there anymore. Luckily for me, Lake Girl rolled her eyes and pulled out a rubber band.

"Feel better?" she asked sarcastically, tying up her hair. Dylan nodded and began talking again as I focused in on her, peeking through the camera intently to get the proper angle when I heard it.

_Bzzzzz._

There's a freaking _bee _in this bush.

(Don't tell anyone, but I hate bees.)

"So, did Al put you up to this?" My ears caught the mention of my name. Of all things to talk about at this moment, she had to talk about me?

Dammit, the sun's gone again.

_Bzzzzz._

I tensed as the bee whizzed past my ears and tried to ignore it as best I could. I mean, it'll go away eventually, right? There isn't a hive in this bush. I didn't eat anything sweet or leave anything on me. There aren't any flowers –

Never mind.

I hate flowers so much right now.

"Nah, but he's been talking about you nonstop."

WHAT THE HELL IS HIS PROBLEM?

"Al can talk?" I groaned and prayed that the sun would just come out already.

_Bzzzzz._

Ignore, ignore, _ignore the bee!_

"Of course. He always manages to offend people with his rudeness."

"He's not rude," she said kindly, successfully diverting my thoughts from the bee. "Like I said, he barely says anything. When he does, he's nice enough."

"Do you like him?"

_Bzzzzz._

"Of course! He's funny, and always sits out here with me."

"No, I mean, _do you –_"

He never got a chance to ask before I sent, ironically, a Stinging Hex in his direction. Dylan clutched at his arm, yelling out in agony.

(Now, did he _really_ expect to get away with that?)

"Dylan, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I –" he narrowed his eyes in my direction. "I just got stung by a bee."

_Bzzzzz. _

Thank Merlin, I think it's going away.

Lake Girl sat back, chewing on her lip and looking worried. The sun had taken that moment to peek out from the clouds, and I dived back to focus my camera, dropping my wand.

_Snap._

There.

Picture taken.

That was much more trouble than it's worth.

"Well, it was nice talking to you," Dylan groaned, standing, "but I think I'd better go to the Hospital Wing. See you in class."

"See you." I pulled out the camera from between the leaves and straightened up. After she turned around and went back to her work, Dylan ducked back around and into the bushes. He punched the back of my head as soon as he reached me.

"What the _hell_ was that for?" Dylan whispered furiously, rubbing his arm. "That bloody hurt, in case you hadn't noticed –"

"There's really no point in setting us up, you know," I commented lightly, dropping the camera back against my chest and feeling for a growing bump on the back of my head. "I don't like her."

"Bullshit. I was trying to help you out."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks for making her think we're poofs, by the way."

"I do my best." He dropped his hands from his arm and looked at my camera. "You _did_ get the picture, right? I didn't just imagine hearing your camera?"

"No, I got it." I looked up to find Dylan staring at me. _"_What?"

He grinned. "You don't know her name. Did you know she's been in our class for six years?"

"She's – _what_?"

"For someone who's supposedly observant, you never noticed?" I felt stunned. He was right. How did I not notice the most beautiful girl I've ever seen right in my same class?

Aw, crap. I'm never going to focus in class again.

"I don't know why I'm friends with you," I muttered darkly. "What's her name?"

Dylan laughed again, making me want to punch his face in. Arrogant little booger-wiping git, thinks he's so much smarter than me. "Find out yourself, you lazy little – Al, there's a freaking _bee_ in here!"

Ah. I knew I kept him around for a reason.


	7. Deal

**Chapter Seven: Deal**

I was so bloody unsatisfied.

I don't think I'd ever been so unsatisfied in a picture before. I mean, sure, pictures turned out blurry or unfocused or just plan stupid-looking, but they've never been so infuriatingly awful.

Don't get me wrong. The picture was flawless. I don't take bad pictures. But there was something _missing_ – like the magic was somehow limited, or something. I don't even know. It was strange.

"You know, I think I see what you mean," Dylan said, looking over my shoulder at the picture.

HA! See?

I mean, this is one of the only times I value his input. So it must be right.

"I dunno what's wrong with it, exactly," he said, reaching down to take it, holding it at different angles. Don't know how that's going to help, idiot. "I mean, it's perfect. But…"

"I can't figure it out," I said, taking it back and leaning against the library shelf. We thought this would be a safe place to talk; Lake Girl was at the lake.

At least, she'd better be. She has to stop screwing with my mind.

"Al, how much time do you spend watching Lake Girl a day?" he asked, taking it back and turning the picture again.

I shrugged. "I dunno. Not a lot."

"Is 'not a lot' a few hours in Al speak?"

"Shut it, prick."

"Okay, so maybe the problem," he said triumphantly, "is that you're too used to seeing her in real life. Nature doesn't move. People do."

I raised an eyebrow. "So you're saying… it should _move_?"

"Yes." He turned the picture so it was facing me. "Just subtly. So it looks natural."

And thus: _magic._

"All right," I agreed, suddenly businesslike. "How do you do it? Is it going to cost us anything?"

"No, I'm actually pretty sure it doesn't," he said happily. "All we have to do is develop the picture in a special potion."

My stomach suck.

I _knew_ there was a catch.

"Dylan, you stink at potions," I groaned.

"Hey!" he responded, half-whispering, half-yelling. "So do you!"

"Exactly my point!" I retorted, stuffing the picture in my trousers. "Who's going to make the potion? Who do we know is good at potions? And_ don't_," I added as he opened his mouth, "say _her_."

He smirked. "I wasn't going to."

I hate him with every fibre of my being.

"I was _going_ to suggest James, actually," he continued.

My eyes bugged out. "_James_? As in, my _brother_, James? Also known as the biggest asshole that ever graced the planet?"

"Who _also_ happens to be gifted in potions?" I clenched my eyes shut in irritation. "Come on, Al. Who else are we going to ask? It's not as though anyone else actually talks to us."

"James doesn't talk to us, he mocks us," I said through gritted teeth. James was the last person on earth I would work with – and why? Because the git is obsessed with popularity and encourages Slytherins when they aim hexes at Dylan and I. All in good fun, of course. But as much as I hated my brother and everything he stood for, I had to admit that he was probably our best bet.

"I'll go find him," Dylan decided. I scowled. Since when was he calling the shots? "You find the book for the potion."

He left the library and I began scouring for the book. Honestly, I hate libraries; it smelled like dust and books and everyone has to be quiet and it's filled with a bunch of snooty little Ravenclaws who think they know everything –

"Oof!"

Except that one.

"I – sorry – _you!_" I spluttered. Shit. I ran into Lake Girl. I swear I've had more physical contact with her than anyone else in my life, and we're _friends_. I stared at her in awe; I don't think you understand how strange it was to see her in a library. She _never_ comes here. I took her hand and picked her up off the floor. "What're you doing here?"

"Just getting a book," she said in a cheerful whisper. "What're you doing?"

"Same." I shoved my hands in my pockets so she wouldn't see my sweaty palms. I felt her picture in there. "I thought you'd be outside?"

"It's raining," she said matter-of-factly.

"So?"

"I hate the rain," she said, wrinkling her nose. "I don't even mind the clouds. Bloody rain, it's so cold and… _ugh._"

"Aren't all girls supposed to love rain, or something?" I asked, following her through the library as she checked to shelves. "I mean, I thought it was a rule. You had to love dancing in the rain and shit."

She considered it. "I guess dancing in the rain is fun."

"Yeah?"

"If you want to get pneumonia."

I laughed. She giggled and pulled her book out of the shelf. "What're you looking for?"

"Erm." I swallowed. "A potions book. For photographs."

"Then you should probably check the potions section," she suggested.

"Yeah. I should." But I couldn't move. Or stop staring at her. It was like my eyes were locked to hers and all I could notice was how nice she smelled.

Okay, feet. Read to move? One, two, three – _move_.

No? Okay, let's try this again. One. Two. Three.

Crap.

"Umm, Al?" She waved a hand in my face. "Are you okay?"

Okay, I'm actually going to move this time. One, two, three –

"What's your name?" I blurted out.

My eyes widened in horror.

I did _not_ just ask that.

PLEASE SAY THAT I DID NOT JUST ASK THAT.

"My – we've been hanging out for weeks, you don't know my _name_?" she whisper-yelled, placing her hand on her hip. I swallowed hard.

Shit. I don't know what I just ruined, but I did.

"I – I'm sorry?" I said weakly.

She rolled her eyes and grabbed my hand, dragging me to the far end of the library, where couples usually snogged. Did she know that? Blood instantly rushed to my head.

She wasn't going to snog me, was she?

Lake Girl pushed herself up on the ledge beside the bookshelf. "Okay, now I'm taller than you."

"I – _what_?"

"I have to seem intimidating in some way," she explained seriously. "Albus, I'm going to make you a deal for being the most oblivious boy in the face of the universe."

"Oblivious?"

"Yes," she said in a commanding voice. "I'm going to trade my name for two things. One: I demand for you to name your camera."

"You want to name my _camera_?" I asked, not sure if I heard her correctly. "Who names inanimate objects?"

"I do!" she exclaimed. She sure could show a lot of emotion while whispering. Lake Girl dug through her bag and pulled out a keychain, attached to a bright, lime green feather. "My good luck charm. Meet Freddie."

I have a cousin named Freddie. I suddenly felt an urge to punch him.

"So what're we naming this little guy?" she cooed, grabbing the camera around my neck. I think my eye started twitching. She'd better pray she's not touching the lens. "It's definitely male."

"You should name him," I urged, wanting to be out of this predicament and pretend it never happened. And for her to stop touching my camera. It's mine. _Mine._ "Your idea, after all."

"But I don't know your camera personally, like you do," she protested. "Ooh, wait! What about Cameron?"

This girl is mad.

"Original," I lied, carefully picking up my camera from her hands and letting it drop back against my chest. Merlin. That was painful. "Great, what's the second part of the deal?"

She shrugged. "That we go to Hogmeade next weekend and you buy me some candy."

Seriously? That was it?

Life is easy, bitches.

"Deal," I said, shaking her hand. "So what's your name?"

"Daniella," she said, tightening her grip on my hand and sliding down from the ledge. She bounced as she hit the ground and smiled widely. "You'll know my last name at Hogsmeade."

"All right," I said, shrugging.

"See you then," she said, and then – I kid you not – she leaned up on her toes and kissed my cheek. I turned red as I watched her skip off, heading towards the front desk to check out her book. After a couple of stunned moments, I felt the spot where her lips touched my skin.

Wait.

So did she just ask me out?


	8. Bribe

**Chapter Eight: Bribe**

"She didn't."

"She did."

"No way."

"Are you doubting my awesomeness?"

"Absolutely."

"You prick."

"I refuse to believe she asked you out."

"She did."

"She didn't –"

"Are you ladies going to stop gossiping anytime soon?" James called over to us. We shut up and glared at him. He smirked and continued stirring the cauldron. "Good. This is almost done."

We were in the potions classroom. After I'd regained my senses in the library (it may or may not have taken about ten minutes), I'd quickly found the book and rushed off to find Dylan. Apparently, he'd managed to convince James to make the potion, but in return, he wanted –

"Pay up," he said, corking the vial and holding out his other hand.

(A bribe.)

(So much for being brothers.)

We coughed up the bit of money we had, and James tossed the vial to us. I caught it – barely. Stupid James. He knew I sucked at Quidditch and any kind of coordination.

"What do you need this for, anyway?" he asked, leaning over the book again. "What, did you want to make the mountains move?"

I rolled my eyes. "No."

"Then what?" he taunted. "You know, Al, people wouldn't hate you if you photographed the _right_ things. Like girls in bikini's. There are loads of people who would appreciate that."

I rolled my eyes. As appealing as eye candy was, it was just proof of how shallow my brother was. "That's not happening."

"Although it's close enough," Dylan piped up, grinning. I shot him a look.

What the hell did he think he was doing?"

"Oh, really?" James asked curiously, but I knew better – he was looking for something on me. This is why I didn't talk to him: he was just constantly trying to screw me over. "You're taking pictures of people again?"

"_No._" I glared at Dylan.

So I might suck at lying.

Sue me.

"Who is it?" James asked. "Dylan? I always thought you might not be exactly _straight_ –"

"Hell no!" we replied together, disgusted.

Seriously, people had to stop thinking we were a gay couple.

Cue: shudders.

"He's taking pictures of a _girl_," Dylan emphasized, getting this smarmy look on his face and nudging me. "A pretty one, right, Al?"

"Shut your mouth, dung face."

"_Really_?" James ignored me and turned to Dylan. "No shit?"

"Absolutely," he said, slapping me on the back. "He's had his eye on her for a while, haven't you, mate? Been talking her up, hanging out with her, and now…" He wiped a fake tear. "He has a date with her."

My jaw clenched shut. "I keep _telling_ you, Dylan: I. Don't. Fancy. Her."

"Sounds like you do," James piped up.

"I _don't_."

"Then why'd you agree to go on a date with her?"

"I didn't know it was a date!" I protested. "She told me it was part of the deal."

"What deal?" James asked suggestively.

"Shut up."

"Al, I don't know why you're in denial," Dylan put in unhelpfully, taking the vial in my hand and staring at the swirling potion. "You've got a date with the bird. You've been hanging around and drooling after her for weeks."

"I don't like her," I insisted, yanking the bottle back and putting it in the pocket of my robes. "I don't like relationships. They're inconvenient, and I don't ever want to get married, so they're pointless."

"But what about getting laid?"

"You don't need a relationship to get laid."

"And you say _I_ have bad morals?" James asked, raising an eyebrow. "Pity, Al. I'm very disappointed in you."

"I'm disappointed in the fact that I had to bribe my brother for a favour," I grumbled.

He rolled his eyes. "I guess we're even, then. In any case, you're going to have to take more pictures of this girl for these moving pictures, yeah? Do you think she'll pose for you again without being disgusted by your presence?"

I scowled, and Dylan laughed. "She didn't pose."

"But then…" James let out a whooping laugh. "You mean you took this without her _permission_?"

"Don't push it," I snarled.

"Bloody hell, this is too good," he choked out, doubling over from laughter. "My baby brother can't even get a girl to pose for him. And now he doesn't want to go on his first date."

"This is your first date?" Dylan asked incredulously. "I think I had one of those when I was four."

"Play dates don't count," I snapped.

"Merlin, let me get the cameras out for mum," James said overdramatically, making me scowl again. "Say, who is this admirer of yours? Probably some ugly troll."

"You're horrible," I told him.

"Plus, she's definitely not a troll," Dylan said, plucking the picture from my trousers and shoving it in James face. I let out a yelp of protest, but they paid no attention. "See?"

"James, give that back."

"Holy shit," he gasped, holding the picture out of reach. "Is that Daniella Chaplin?"

Oh, so that's what her last name is.

"No," I growled, lunging for the picture again.

"Bloody hell, that's definitely her!" He looked to Dylan. "How'd he manage to score a date with her? She's friends with the most popular girls in school!"

Dylan shrugged. "Beats me."

"James, give back the bloody picture!" I yelled.

"You know, Al," he said, still keeping the picture out of reach, "if you don't want to go on a date with her, I can do something about that."

"James, give back – wait, _what_?"

"Yeah," he said, grinning mischievously. "I can let her down easy, and then take your place."

… what the hell.

"No," I dismissed.

"Why not?" he asked in that annoying voice that irritates me to no end. "I thought you didn't want to go on this date. You don't fancy her, right?"

"No, but –"

"And you don't care about her, right?"

"Of course not, but –"

"So I'm going to ask her out," he decided in an authoritative voice. "Since, you know, you don't care. And _she_ can make the decision."

And with that, he tucked the picture in my front pocket and strode out of the classroom.

Dylan and I exchanged glances.

Shit.


	9. Obsession

**Chapter Nine: Obsession**

Remember that second picture I had to take of Daniella? Well, I took it.

And approximately five hundred and sixty-six more.

(Okay, so that number might not be approximate. Shut up.)

Most of them don't move, unfortunately, but I kept them anyway. The potion James made ran out about three hundred pictures ago, and he won't make anymore, because of a few reasons:

1. He's a prick.

2. All he does these days is snog Daniella.

I don't know what James did, but the next thing I knew, Daniella was coming up me, not looking at me in the eye, swinging on her heels and stammering something about how she said 'yes' to James and I didn't have to worry about going out with her if I didn't want to. Then she ran away.

And I felt like shit.

Don't assume anything, though – I still don't like her, and I never will. I'm practically incapable of feelings, okay? All that's been happening in these past few weeks was entirely a fluke. A misconception.

So I can't explain _why_ I felt like shit. But I did.

I swear I didn't mean to take so many pictures. After the second one, which we developed to move and it was _finally_ right, I was going to stop. Seriously. But then a week went by, and I was so tired of running into James and Daniella snogging that the next time I found her by the lake – alone – I took a picture of it.

You know, to remember that moment.

Shut up.

But my problem was that I suddenly couldn't stop taking pictures. She just looked so perfect – even more perfect than nature. How can I compare with that? I just had to keep taking pictures. Everywhere I could get: at the lake, in class, in the library, eating…

She's becoming an obsession.

That's really not good.

I was in some bushes near the lake, looking for the best angle to take picture five-hundred and seventy-seven when I was poked in the back. Hard.

I will kill Dylan one day.

WITH A FORK.

"What the hell," I groaned quietly, dropping my camera and massaging my head. "Haven't you ruined my life enough?"

"I didn't do it on purpose!" he protested in a whisper. "I'm glad you're coming to terms with your feelings, though."

"What feelings?" I grinned as he slammed a hand to his forehead.

"You're killing me here, Al."

"I swear I lose IQ points when I'm around you."

"Did you not have your coffee this morning, or something?" he asked as I ignored him and went back to staring at Daniella. "You seem extra douche-y today."

"No, I had it," I said absent-mindedly.

"Then?"

"Had to interrupt them to get into the Great Hall," I admitted grudgingly, dropping my eyes to the ground, trying to erase the mental image. I swear James was rubbing it in my face.

"Harsh."

"Didn't bother me."

"Al, why can't you just admit you fancy her?" he asked, sighing. "It's normal. And while you're not normal, you're always insisting you're straight, so it's probably best if you go after her."

I felt a twinge of annoyance. "Don't tell me what to do."

"If you'd just told James you fancied her, he wouldn't have gone out with her."

"Don't bet on that."

"Al, just go talk to her." My head snapped up to his direction. The asshole wasn't serious, was he?

(He was.)

"I'm not talking to her," I muttered, picking up my camera and holding it up again. Then I lowered it. "She's sleeping."

"There's your chance!" he said, nudging me. "You haven't talked to her in a week. She's convinced you hate her. Come on, set the record straight."

"She _hates_ me?" I echoed. Bloody hell. Girls can sure hold a grudge.

"Yes. Go."

I stepped out of the bush carefully, making sure not to scratch my camera lens. As I neared her, I was instantly struck with how she looked when she was sleeping – not adorable. I don't use that word – but it was… something. Her eyes tightly shut, eyelashes long and dipping onto the book she was using as a pillow. Her legs were curled underneath her, and her hair was flowing in the wind, slightly tickling her nose.

Not realizing it, I held my camera up and starting moving for the best shot, when –

Damn.

Did she _have_ to wake up?

I quickly dropped my camera back against my chest as she sniffed. I don't think she saw me; she quickly sat up and wiped the back of her mouth. Merlin, even her drooling was cute.

I mean… I DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING.

"Umm," I mumbled before she thought I was staring at her sleeping. She looked to me. I cleared my throat. "Hey."

"Hey," she said softly, looking back down at her book. "I thought you weren't talking to me."

"I never said that."

"You never said anything."

"I meant to." I sat down. She was avoiding my eyes. Crap. "You're just a little busy these days."

"Oh, yeah. I guess."

"How are…" I swallowed. Why was this so hard? "How're things going between you and my brother?"

"Oh, great!" She smiled. Really widely. Creepy. "Really great. Yeah, he's really nice."

"_Nice_?" I repeated, raising my eyebrows.

"Uh huh."

Well. Never thought I'd see the day when someone called my brother _nice._

"And, ummm…" Merlin. So awkward. Why was this so awkward? "How're you, otherwise?"

She sighed and looked at me. Finally. "Al, why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" I asked.

"I think I got the message, loud and clear," she said, beginning to shove her books in her bag. "If you didn't want to go out with me, you should've just said so. You didn't have the send your brother to tell me." She swung her bag over her shoulder and stood.

I stood as well. "That's not how it was –"

"Don't lie to me." She was pressing her lips together very tightly.

"I'm not lying!"

"Don't _do_ that," she mumbled, staring determinedly past my shoulder. "Don't try to be all cute and get out of it."

I ran a hand through my hair. "Daniella, I didn't know you fancied me."

She scoffed. "Right."

"I didn't!"

"Sure."

"But –" I faltered. I was running out of things to say. My heart was running a marathon. "I really didn't mean to –"

"Hurt me? Too late."

"Why'd you go out with James if you fancy me?" I asked.

"Because I felt stupid for asking," she said quietly. "He said that didn't know how to let me down, so he was going to take your place for the day. Do you know how stupid I felt?"

"I – no." I shoved my hands in my pockets. "Do you like him, now?"

"I'm dating him, aren't I?"

"Doesn't answer my question."

"Leave me alone," she muttered, beginning to walk away.

"Wait!" I called to her retreating back. "Wait, Daniella, I'm sorry!"

"Not good enough!"

And as she walked away, I was met with an entirely new emotion:

Guilt.


	10. Negatives

**Chapter Ten: Negatives**

I hate riddles.

I didn't know how much I hated riddles until I was trying to break into the Ravenclaw Tower – and _don't look at me like that._ I am here purely for artistic reasons.

Unfortunately, the damn tower wants me to solve a _riddle_ to get in.

"Okay," I said, taking a deep breath and clutching my camera tightly. "Say it again."

The bronze eagle knocker in front of me stated, "_What can you keep after giving to someone else?_"

"Okay," I repeated to myself. "It can't be something you can give physically, right? Because then you can't keep it. So it's something metaphorical or emotional or some stupid shit like that." The knocker gave no indication of whether I was going in the right direction, so I continued. "Errr – love? No, you can't keep love, can you? Your heart? Bloody hell, how mushy do I have to get here?"

Merlin, there was a reason I wasn't a Ravenclaw.

"Come _on!_" I shouted, my voice echoing through the hallways. "Shit, someone definitely heard that! I'm going to get caught, let me in!"

Nothing.

"Let me in, please!" I begged. "I'm not stealing or doing anything bad, I swear!"

I kicked the door – and it didn't open, but it managed to make my toe feel like something ran over it. Something very heavy. I swore in pain.

I gripped my toe, hopping on one foot. "Dammit! Okay, umm… Ravenclaw-ish stuff? Books! No, that's a thing – snobs! Blue! Knowledge!"

I fell back as the door swung open.

Knowledge.

_Typical._

I glanced around me before clambering inside, shutting the door behind me. The room was circular and blue and all Ravenclaw-like. It wasn't too bad, honestly, but I preferred Gryffindor's Common Room.

Now. The girl's dormitory.

Okay, before you say anything, this _isn't what it looks like._ Like I said, I'm here for purely artistic reasons. I believe that you should capture something without taking it – sort of like that stupid riddle – and if I couldn't see Daniella sleeping every day, I might as well take a picture of it.

… all right, so it sounds creepy any way you say it.

Either way, I had made my decision: I was going to levitate myself up the stairs, get in the girl's dormitory, find Daniella, take the picture and get out. Plain and simple.

I don't know what pulled me so strongly to that image of her sleeping. Maybe it was because it was the first time I'd ever seen it, and it just felt so _real_. Like there wasn't a mask over the picture. I think that's why I wouldn't ever want her to pose.

I dunno. There was something so natural about that scene that I couldn't get it out of my head – and believe me, I tried. There were night and nights of arguing with myself – _no_, there was no way I was going to sneak into the Ravenclaw tower, much less the girl's dormitory. Not for a picture. It wasn't worth the risk… was it?

Evidently, my less rational side won out.

Getting into the dormitory was the easy part. I was always good at levitating myself – had to get to some unusual places for good shots – but I had never been very good at sneaking up on people. Probably because Dylan ruined it most of the time, but still: I wasn't really used to tip-toeing around.

I did my best, though. Once I reached the landing on top of the stairs, I opened the door as quietly as I could – which, of course, resulted in loud awkward noises from the door handle. I kept the door halfway open and slipped inside.

My camera bumped against the doorframe. Noise.

I took a step. The floor creaked. Noise.

So I stopped, took a breath and actually looked around the four-poster beds, trying to figure out which one Daniella was in. I nearly had to stop myself from groaning when I realized the blue curtains were drawn on every. Single. Bed.

Fuck my life.

I stood frozen in the middle of room, thinking I should just give up while I was ahead. I mean, if I left now, I wouldn't have to risk a bunch of angry Ravenclaw snobs (minus Daniella) waking up and screaming at me, right? I would leave, get out of the Common Room, go back to bed and not risk detention or expulsion and continue to argue with myself where my limits as a photographer were.

But I was _so close_.

So I did what any guy would do: I looked through their trunks.

I went to the first one on the left, planning to go clockwise in the circle. I dropped to my knees and carefully opened the first trunk. If I knew Daniella, she would fill hers with books because she didn't have enough room in her bookshelf.

The first trunk was filled with clothes and makeup. The second was stuffed to the brim with arts supplies, a very colourful smock and a few pairs of shoes. The third had a lot of lingerie.

Awkward.

By the fourth one, I was getting more and more paranoid, and almost shouted with relief when I found the stacks of books in the fourth trunk. I shut the trunk and stood slowly, my limbs cracking slightly as I stepped around and peeked through the curtain.

I wanted to turn back the instant I saw her – but she was _right there._ Peacefully sleeping. She had some sort of lamp near her bed that illuminated her space with a dull purple light. She needed a night light. Huh. I couldn't bring myself to care.

Now.

How was I going to do this.

I could just take it like this, peeking in through her curtain, but the lamp was kind of inconveniently placed. The glare wouldn't be good for the photo. Plus, she was facing the other way. In order to do this, I either had to switch to the other side of the bed, open the curtain so some of the light could come through the window, or… stand on the bed, over her.

I shook off that last thought immediately and walked to the other side. It was bad enough that I was taking all these pictures of her – especially one of her _sleeping_ – without her permission. I couldn't risk her waking up and catching me for a perfect picture.

At least, not this time.

I felt excitement bubbling in me alongside the guilt and ignored both feelings. Instead, I very slowly slid the curtain aside, just to the foot of her bed. She didn't move. The light was now illuminating every feature of her face in a soft glow. She looked… indescribable. She was curled up, her breathing slow and steady.

I was reminded why I was taking this picture – so I could see that anytime I wanted.

And suddenly, it was worth it.

I moved so that my shins were gently pressing against the bed and I was directing my camera towards her face and torso. Just one picture. That was it. Then I'd go back, develop it in the morning and never do something this ridiculous again. Just one more.

I took a deep breath and pressed my finger down on the button.

_Click._

_Flash._

… CRAP.

The bright light I hadn't anticipated – _really really really hadn't_ – flashed in her face. I scrambled to move away and drop my camera, but it was too late; her eyes had snapped open and sleepily grabbed in front of her. It was a reflex, but unfortunately, she had happened to grab onto my camera, pull it hard, snap the cord around my neck and pull me forward.

And I fell on top of her.

Merlin, it just keeps getting worse.

"_Albus_?" She shook her head and disregarded my camera in her hands, staring at me and trying to understand what I was doing here, in the Ravenclaw Tower, with a camera pointed at her while she was sleeping.

She's a Ravenclaw. It didn't take her long.

I only saw the anger in her eyes for a moment before a sharp, piercing pain surged through my ear when she grabbed it. I'm pretty sure she twisted, too. I fell off of her and onto the space beside her bed, cursing under my breath. She shut the curtain – no one had woken up, thankfully – and turned to me.

"What the _hell _are you doing here?" she whispered furiously.

"I…" Shit. I clenched my eyes shut and wished this wasn't happening. And I wished that I'd been smart enough to think of an excuse _before_ coming here for what would happen if I got caught.

Stupid. Flash.

"Albus." I opened my eyes. She was now holding up my camera. Her hands were clearly shaking. Probably not good if she wanted to take a picture.

Wait. She was touching my camera.

_Twitch._

"Albus," she said again, her voice quivering. I didn't meet her eyes. "Were you taking a picture of me?"

"I…" My lips were forming the word – the truth – but it wasn't coming out. She waited. She looked so beautiful, even when she was half pissed off, half looking as though she were about to cry – and hell, half shocked. I took a deep breath, trying to push down the guilt and own up to the truth:

_Yes, I am a creepy stalker and was taking a picture of you sleeping._

Someone Avada me. Please.

But I didn't say it, because my throat was doing that weird constricting and tightening thing it always does around her, and I couldn't speak. Her impatience was evident, and to my complete and utter horror, she went to my camera in her hands, broke open the compartment on the side and took out the negatives. The same negatives with pictures I'd been taking of her all week.

Shit.

Shit.

_Shit._

"These…" She swallowed hard and looked back up to me. I was frozen. "These are all me?"

Wordlessly, I found it in myself to nod.

"Why?" she whispered.

_Why_. That question I'd been contemplating for months, even before I'd become her friend. When I'd first tripped in the Great Hall because I saw her. When I spent all that time staring at her from my tree, and then when I started hanging out with and became her friend.

Why was I doing all this? Why was she special? Why did I bother?

The first thing I thought was because she was beautiful. Which was true. She was the most stunning girl I'd ever seen, which is saying something, since I'd never had a crush on anyone before. But then I thought to how we both liked nature and coffee and how it was so nice to sit with her for all those weeks. Even if she talked a lot and was happy.

Then the answer was as clear, if not clearer, than when Dylan and James said it: I fancied her. I fancied her and how she wore sweatpants on Sundays and how she dipped her feet in the water when it was warm and how she always hugged me tightly and how she wasn't afraid of me.

Until now.

And I had never wanted that to happen.

And there she was, her eyes filled with tears, her hands shaking, still waiting for an answer while it all hit me, while everything clicked into place – and I just had to say it. Spit it out. Tell her the truth.

_I fancy you. I did it because I fancy the hell out of you._

Instead, I leaned in and kissed her.


	11. Confrontation

**Chapter Eleven: Confrontation**

"So let me get this straight," Dylan said, ticking off his fingers. "You snuck into the Ravenclaw Tower in the middle of the night."

"Technically early morning."

"_Then,_ you ransacked the personal belongings of every Ravenclaw girl in sixth year."

I scratched my head. "Only four of them…"

"There are only five girls, Al," he said tiredly, rolling his eyes. "Whatever. Then you took a picture of Daniella."

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Then your camera's flash woke her up."

"Yep."

"Then she, by reflex, grabbed your camera and manage to pull you on top of her."

"Uh huh."

"Then she broke open your camera because you couldn't _speak._"

"It's a real problem," I admitted.

"And she found all the negatives and realized you were stalking her."

"I wouldn't call it _stalking_…"

"Any normal person would," Dylan said, rolling his eyes again. "Then…"

"I kissed her." I grabbed a pillow off the couch and stuffed my face into it. I'd come back from the Ravenclaw Tower, sped back to my dormitory, grabbed Dylan and practically pushed him down the stairs before telling him everything. Of course, he was half-asleep, so he had to recount everything in an excruciatingly painful manner.

"Why'd you kiss her, Al?" he asked. "I mean, I thought you didn't care about her."

I shot a glare at his growing grin. "What, do you want me to spell it out for you?"

He sat back in his armchair, arms crossed across his chest and his unbearable smirk kicking me in the nose. "I think I'd like for you to admit it."

I stayed silent.

What? He can't always get what he wants.

He sighed again, running a hand through his blond hair. "Fine. So then, she just pulled back and threw your camera at you and told you to get out."

"Yeah," I mumbled. That one kind of felt like she'd thrown my camera right into my chest and punched a hole through. I wasn't sure if I deserved it or not – after all, wasn't kissing her equivalent to admitting that I fancy her? – but I decided not to argue.

Merlin, this is why fancying someone is stupid. Makes me look like a dumbass.

Dylan yawned loudly. "You know, I think you should just talk to her and apologize. I mean, she has a boyfriend, so she probably just feels guilty right now."

Something lurched in my stomach.

Shit, she was still dating James!

"I have to go talk to him," I muttered, jumping up. James was an idiot, but he was still my brother, and even if I _knew_ he didn't fancy her, it wouldn't stop him from feeling betrayal. In his own, messed up way. "He'll kill me if she tells him before I do."

"Probably," Dylan agreed, his eyes shutting.

"Go back to bed," I said, kicking him before running to the seventh year boy's dormitories. I grinned for the first time that night when I heard his groan.

James was the kind of person who would never use curtains, and for once, I was thankful of this fact. I also knew that he jerked violently and hit things when people woke him up, so I took his favourite teddy bear (only few knew of this) and poked him with it.

Nothing.

I think he just snored a little.

I looked to the light brown bear. It was missing an eye. "Sorry, Mr. Fuzzy," I whispered to it.

Then I whipped it at James.

"WHAT THE BLEEDING –"

"Shut up," I interrupted hastily, pushing him back onto his bed. Merlin, did he have to jump up like giant gorillas were attacking him? "I need to talk to you."

He groaned sleepily. "Al, what time is it?"

"Five-thirty."

"In the _morning_?" he demanded in a whisper, sitting up. I nodded. He leaned over to smack the back of my head. "Why the hell are you waking me up?"

I closed my eyes. "I have to tell you something."

"Can it wait until the sun has risen?"

"No," I whispered harshly, sitting on the edge of his bed. "James, I kissed your girlfriend."

"My girlfriend?"

"You know," I said impatiently. "Daniella. My year. You snog her all the time."

"Oh," he said shortly, expression blank. "What'd she do when you kissed her?"

"Tell me to leave," I mumbled.

"Huh." He stared at me for a moment before pulling the covers back over him. "Yeah, Al, that definitely could've waited until morning. Good night."

Wait.

_What?_

"Hang on," I whispered, pulling the covers back off. "Aren't you mad?"

"I'm mad you for waking me up," he said crossly.

"But I just kissed your girlfriend!" I repeated, frustrated. Shouldn't he be pummelling me by now? THIS DOESN'T MAKE SENSE. "Why aren't you mad?"

He rolled his eyes. "I only dated her to make you realize you fancy her."

My jaw dropped. "You did?"

"Yup." I thought about it, and when he put it like that… it did make sense. Only after he managed to snog her in every single part of the castle I was in was I forced to admit that there was something about it that bothered me.

And I hated that it worked.

"I thought you just wanted a snog," I muttered.

"That too," he said, yawning. "Now leave. I need my beauty sleep."

I sniggered quietly as I stood, nodding to him. "Thanks."

"Get lost." I began to make my way out the door, but he stopped me.

"Wait a minute." I glanced back at James. He was grinning. "You haven't kissed anyone before, have you?"

My ears burned red.

"Aww, was that Ally-Poo's first kiss?" he cooed, getting up and moving toward me. I backed out quickly – his roommates were beginning to stir. Merlin, do _not_ ever mess with seventh year Gryffindors. Half of them shave, okay?

James was still laughing openly. "It was! Ally just had his first kiss!"

I rolled my eyes. I was more concerned about beaters bats being chucked at me.

"You're a man!" he called as I ran down the stairs. "A man, do you hear me? A MAN!"

And that, my friend, is why I love coffee more than my brother.


	12. Eavesdropping

**Chapter Twelve: Eavesdropping**

As far as I could see, I was knee-deep in shit.

First off, my _wonderful_ brother James took it upon himself to announce my first crush and first kiss to the entire school. Most didn't care all that much, thankfully, but my cousins did. My cousins who barely spoke to me were suddenly congratulating me and pinching my cheeks.

I made sure to leave a couple dung bombs in James' trunk.

Then, if things weren't bad enough, Daniella was avoiding me. She wasn't at her usual spot at the lake or in the back corner of the library. Every time I asked one of her prissy friends if she was in the Common Room, they'd snap their gum at me and roll their eyes.

James definitely wasn't kidding when he said Daniella was friends with the most popular girls in school. I found out quickly that the only reason her friends bothered was because Daniella's family was rich. It explained why she always said her friends tried to change her.

But even they didn't know where she was. I looked _everywhere_ for her. I just wanted the chance to explain that I know what I did was wrong. I should've asked permission. I shouldn't have stalked her. And I probably shouldn't have kissed her, either.

(But I couldn't bring myself to regret it.)

Daniella practically flew out the door when class ended. The opportunity to explain that James was an idiot and I really _did_ want to go on a date with her was completely shot, simply because she was nowhere to be found.

And now, the worst news of all:

My camera went missing.

I didn't misplace it, I swear. I always keep my camera around my neck or in my case. The last picture I took was of Daniella, and after she threw it back at me, I took it to my dormitory, cast _reparo_ and set it back in my case. I hadn't taken another picture because I was so set on finding Daniella, but when I went to check on it… it was gone.

Possibly the scariest moment of my life.

Someone stole my camera.

Someone _touched_ my camera.

_Twitch._

And in the place of it was a note, telling me to go to the courtyard at four-thirty. As soon as I got there, I saw Dylan and was about to wave him over – but then I saw what he had around his neck.

The little shit face had my camera!

I was about to go beat the crap out of him for laying his snotty little fingers on my camera, but I realized that he wasn't alone. He was speaking to Daniella, who had her arms crossed and looked really upset.

I quickly snuck around a pillar near the bench they were sitting so she couldn't see me. I'd never been one to eavesdrop, but I couldn't help it; I was sure it was Dylan who sent the note. What did he want me to hear?

"… maybe you should just hear him out."

"He had his chance," Daniella replied, bringing her legs up to her chest. "I don't see why I should listen to anything he has to say."

"Come on," Dylan urged. "It's not so bad. I bet the first thing out of his mouth would be an apology."

"I don't care." She bit her lip. "Do you really think I should just forgive him for something like that? He invaded my privacy Dylan. He took a picture of me while I was _sleeping_. Merlin only knows how many pictures he's taken so far."

"You should be flattered," he said, trying to stick up for me. "You're the only person who he _wants_ to take pictures of."

She shook her head and rested her chin on her knee. "I don't care how much I like him, it's just… it was so creepy. And wrong."

"I know it was. He does, too."

She closed her eyes. "I can't believe he kissed me."

"Me neither. He's a wimp."

"It was amazing."

I smiled.

"Too much information," Dylan said, looking disgusted. "Daniella, you've fancied him for months. All I've heard from you since that time you found out we weren't gay was, 'Does he like me?' 'Do you think he'll ask me out?' 'Why hasn't he gone on dates?' 'You're his best friend, you should know everything about him!' 'What's the best way to ask him out?'"

She was blushing. "Well, I guess I wasted my time."

"You didn't." Dylan took my camera off his neck – _don't cringe, don't cringe – _and handed it to Daniella. She raised an eyebrow. "I want you to see things from his perspective."

"I…" She held the camera, turning it over in her hands. "I don't know why I should bother, Dylan."

"Because photography means a lot to Al," he explained. "Maybe you'll understand why he does it. All he's told me is that he loves capturing moments."

"He does?"

"Yeah. It sort of reminds me of what my dad says about his brother. My dad's the one who gave Al his first camera, you know. My dad always talks about his older brother and how he loved taking pictures, for the same reason. He has thousands of his pictures from Hogwarts, and he treasures the memories." Dylan shrugged. "Maybe Al treasures you, too."

"Really?" she asked, smiling.

"Yeah." He tapped the camera. "Try it, okay? For Al. Give him another chance."

Daniella stood, holding my camera tightly in her hands. "I'll think about it."

"Good enough for me!" She laughed and gave Dylan and quick hug before running back into the castle. After she'd disappeared, he came around the pillar and poked my shoulder.

"That girl really fancies you, mate," he said casually, "even if you're a stalker."

"I guess so." I looked down to the ground to avoid his eyes. "Thanks."

He shrugged. "You owe me."

I grinned.

Maybe Dylan wasn't so bad after all.


	13. Addiction

**Chapter Thirteen: Addiction**

A bloke who wakes up to find a girl in his bed is very, _very_ lucky. The rest of us must assume that it is a beautiful dream and that the alarm clock _better_ not go off, because it would probably result in fatal injuries to the stupid, annoying, beautiful dream-interrupting piece of shit.

But this was no dream.

Daniella was in my bed. And she was very, _very_ real.

Holy bloody fucking shit.

"For Merlin's sake, Al, you didn't have to _scream_," she muttered, leaning over on her knees and slapping a hand over my mouth. I was screaming? Huh. I hadn't noticed. "Am I really that scary?"

"Mmmfgh."

She rolled her eyes, but kept her hand on my mouth. "Don't answer that."

My head fell back on my pillows and I breathed through my nose, trying to calm my racing heart. What was going on? Why was Daniella in my bed at – I checked my watch – nine in the morning, on a Saturday?

Things had been weird for the past couple of weeks. After Dylan gave Daniella my camera, I had literally nothing to do. I felt like I was just itching to take a picture of someone – and that soon become some_thing,_ anything – but I couldn't. I even resorted to doing my schoolwork. It was that bad.

I guess it's an addiction.

I guess I had a lot of those.

I was a mess. And on top of it all, Daniella had disappeared. I didn't know where she was, but after Dylan talked to her… I stopped looking. I figured that if she wanted to talk, she'd come to me.

I just didn't expect her to sneak into my dormitory at the crack of dawn.

"Al," she said carefully, "I'm going to lift my hand up, now. Don't scream. Okay?"

I nodded.

She lifted her hand and I took a deep, shuddering breath before sitting up. I noticed Daniella looked and half-irritated and half-nervous, rocking back and forth on her knees. She shifted and crossed her legs.

"So, you're probably wondering why I'm here…" she began, avoiding my eyes.

I swallowed. "Yeah, a bit."

"I came to return your camera." She reached over to my bedside table where she obviously put it down before sitting on my bed and scaring me half to death. She handed it to me. "Thanks for letting me borrow it."

"I… no problem," I said shakily, taking it. Let her borrow it? More like _forced._ I looked back up. She was still avoiding my eyes. "How'd you get in here?"

"Dylan gave me the password," she said, shrugging. "All your roommates are already up, you know. You're the only one in here."

"Really?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Was Dylan responsible for that, too?"

"Probably."

"That git."

"You should be thankful no one but me heard that girly scream," she teased, and I scowled. She pulled the camera from my hands, set it back on the table and nudged me. "Scoot over."

I couldn't believe my ears. "_What_?"

"Scoot over," she repeated. "I'm cold."

Numbly, I moved over a little bit and she climbed underneath my covers, lying down and curling underneath them. She shivered a little, but smiled when I lay down and put an arm around her.

Purely instinct. I'm glad she didn't hit me for it.

"What about James?" I croaked suddenly. "Aren't you dating him?"

She shook her head. "No… it wasn't real."

Wait.

"It wasn't real?" I echoed, becoming confused. "You mean he broke our date for nothing?"

"No, he asked me out." She rolled her eyes. "You know, I don't think I'd ever go for the smooth, arrogant type. They freak me out more than anything. I told James I wasn't interested, but I'd do it to make you jealous."

I turned red. "Oh."

"And it worked," she said, grinning.

"Shut up."

"But I don't know how that lead you to coming to my dormitory in the middle of the night." She turned onto her side so she could look at me. "Why did you do that? Why were you taking pictures of me?"

"I…" Something was stuck in my throat again. Damn that meatloaf. I scratched my head to stall. "I wanted to tell you, but…"

"I guess I didn't make it too easy," she supplied.

"Not exactly."

She sighed, and – I'm not joking here – she _snuggled_ into me. Put her head on my chest and gripped me tightly and everything. Shit, I hoped she couldn't hear how fast my heart was thumping away. "I'm sorry the way my friends treated you when you asked."

"It's okay," I managed to whisper.

"If it makes you feel better, they treat everyone really badly."

"I honestly don't care how they treat me."

"I care," she said softly. I felt like all the air had somehow squeezed out of the room and everything was suddenly too quiet. And I felt really bad. For Daniella.

"Do you…" I shook my head. I didn't know why she was telling me this, but I wasn't going to complain. Stalling was being taken care of, apparently. "Is it hard being their friend?"

She nodded. "I think they're only friends with me because I have money."

"Money?"

"Yeah," she said, nodding again. "Actually, my family has money. All of our families have been friends for ages, but I guess my family has the most or something, so they feel obligated to befriend me here."

"Oh."

"But all they do is try to get me to stop reading. But I _like_ reading. And I like my sweatpants. And I like being outside. I don't know why they're always on my case for these things, but I guess they're popular, and they don't want to be seen with someone who has a mind of her own. But they have to be friends with me."

"You don't have to be friends with them?" I said uneasily, not knowing what to say.

"I realized that a while ago," she said, shrugging, "but I didn't have any other friends."

"Oh."

"But I gave up on them," she admitted. "I gave up on them when I told them I fancied you, and they told me off for it."

"Wait, _what_?" I tried to sit up, but Daniella was still lying sort of on top of me. "What did they say?"

"That you're not popular enough, even though you're a Potter." She shrugged. "That's when I gave up on them."

I felt at a loss. Did she lose her friends because of me?

But wasn't it sort of a _good_ thing that she wasn't really involved with them anymore?

"Is that when you started hanging out with Dylan?" I asked.

"Actually, it's when I started hanging out with you." She smiled at me, and my heart quickened again. "I found out you were outside almost as much as I was. It just made me like you more."

She fell silent. She was blushing, but she didn't look as nervous anymore. That's what I really liked about her; she didn't back down and try to fit in with her "friends" or give up what she liked. I liked that she could admit that she fancied me and say it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Because it was, in hindsight.

"I have obsessions," I blurted out into the silence. I felt like the heat was practically radiating off my face. "I really like certain things. When I was younger, I had an obsession with fantasy novels and couldn't stop reading them. I can't go a day without drinking coffee."

To my surprise, she giggled. "Really?"

"Yeah." My face was flaming now. "When I was little, Dylan's dad gave me my first camera, and I've been obsessed with taking pictures ever since. I told you how I take pictures of nature, but…" I cleared my throat. I had to say it. I _had _to. "I haven't been obsessed with taking pictures of people before, until… you."

Daniella became very still. "Why me?" she asked quietly.

"I…" The words were dying in my throat, but I knew exactly what they were.

"Al, don't get me wrong, but…" She bit her lip. "Look, I'm not perfect. And I think that's the way you see me. But I'm really not. I'm really messy. I take a really long time in the shower. I actually _like _hanging out with my parents."

I shook my head. "I don't care. That's not why anyone takes pictures of something."

"Then why me?"

I took a deep breath. Her brown eyes were piercing mine. "I think you're beautiful."

The blush was blooming on her pale cheeks, and I wanted to take a picture of it. That's the only reason I ever stared at her, or took so many pictures; I just wanted to remember it and keep it with me. Just steal a moment of time.

Probably should've done that with her permission.

"Thank you," she said after a few moments, almost a little breathlessly.

"You're welcome," I answered. Then instantly felt stupid.

This is why I have my coffee in the morning.

"So I'm one of your obsessions, now?" she asked, looking fake disappointed. Like she knew the answer already. "Just another obsession that might go away?"

I shook my head. "I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"Because I really fancy you," I blurted out. Then I clenched my eyes shut.

Merlin, how did she say it so easily? I felt like the words were wrenched from my gut and slapping her in the face. I would not like the slap her in the face. I would like the words to be nice and hug her instead.

Sheesh.

But I guess it didn't feel like a slap to her, because her smile was suddenly so big that I thought the corners of her lips would meet her ears. She bit her lip, turned around and grabbed my camera.

"You know, I wanted to see why you took so many pictures," she said, flipping back onto the pillows and opening the camera in front of his. She took out the negatives and carefully placed my camera back onto the table. "I think I get it now."

"You do?" I asked, suddenly elated.

"Yeah." She held up the film in front of us, and I could see through the light coming from my bedroom window that she _had_ taken pictures. Of some of the mountains surrounding Hogwarts. Of flowers. Of the lake – her spot. Of the tree where she found me. Of me.

Huh.

"I think I understand why you were creeped out," I muttered, looking through the tiny pictures. This is why I hadn't seen her for the past couple of weeks; instead of me stalking her, she was stalking me. And taking pictures. "Merlin, you really stalked me."

She laughed. "We're going to stop taking pictures of each other. Like this, at least."

"Agreed," I said instantly, rolling the film back up and handing it to her. "I don't know what you want me to do with the rest – I took a _lot_ of pictures, I have an album."

Wow.

Word-vomit much?

"Just burn them," she said after the initial shock wore off. She placed the film back onto my bedside table and grabbed a new roll from the pile I kept on the table and put it back in the camera. "I think there's just one picture worth keeping."

"Which one's that?"

"This one."

With that, she turned around and kissed me. I heard the familiar click of the camera when her lips met mine, the flash seeming like fireworks behind my eyes. Seconds later, I felt the camera drop onto my bed and her hands brushing across the back of my neck.

For once in my life, I was living in the moment rather than capturing it.

Daniella was right.

I kept that snapshot forever.


	14. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Dylan muttered, taking in our safety spot in the Great Hall. Because as soon as this worked – and it _would _– we were going to need to hide. Or run. And I'm not too fond of running.

"I think it's going to work," Daniella said confidently. She was the one who suggested we hide near the Ravenclaw table, crouching underneath it. Apparently there were a lot of late-night study sessions, so no one really woke up this early in the morning. Except James, hopefully. For Quidditch practice. "He's going to walk in, drink the juice, and…"

"There's no possible way this could fail." I was lying, and Daniella could tell. She squeezed my hand. "Seriously, though, he's going to kill us. James is in love with his hair. He says it's a bird magnet."

"I've noticed. He has a stupid habit of running his hands through his hair."

"It's really annoying. I don't know how you snogged him."

"Please don't remind me that horrifying experience."

"Al, quit being jealous," Dylan snapped, turning to us. "This was your idea."

"Yeah, for revenge," I retorted, going back to watching the door. I suddenly perked up. "Look, here he comes!"

We fell silent as James entered the Great Hall, looking haughty in his Quidditch Robes. I decided a little while after Daniella and I started dating that I really didn't want to forgive James for interfering. Since I could've gone on a date with Daniella and figured it all out on my own.

My older bastard of a brother was going _down._

And the thing about James is that he has an incredibly obvious weak point: his hair. He thinks that his hair makes him Merlin, which automatically makes him Merlin's gift to girls. I wanted him to realize that he's an idiot and couldn't get every girl he wanted. Or snog them for fun.

Daniella was pretty quick to agree with me.

I had the best girlfriend ever.

My eyes followed James as he swaggered into the hall, muddy and sweaty from practice, laughing and joking with the rest of the team. He sat down at his usual spot – a spot he named _his,_ and for some reason, people listened to him – and started piling food on his plate. I waited until he poured his pumpkin juice in his goblet and took a long swing. He put it down, smacking his lips.

Then, promptly, all of his hair fell off.

A hush went over the Gryffindor table as they realized they were suddenly looking at James' shiny bald head. His black hair pooled in his hands, at his feet, in his plate… _everywhere._ He didn't move, frozen limbs and mouthing wordlessly at his beloved hair.

Then suddenly, his shiny head snapped up, searching around the Great Hall with angry eyes.

"I think he's caught on," Daniella whispered, grinning excitedly.

"I think we'd better run!" Dylan suddenly shouted, crawling out from underneath the table. I looked back to James, and he was right; James was striding towards us with an evil, probably fatal look in his eyes.

Shit.

I hate running.

I dove underneath the bench and scrambled to run after Dylan, pulling Daniella with me. I heard James the Cue Ball shouting at us as we ran through the corridors and up random stairs. Soon, we lost Dylan, who'd taken some turn and vanished.

But James was still hot on our heels.

I think we finally lost him when we got _lost_, taking so many twists and turns that I hadn't a clue to where we were anymore. James' shouting was somewhere in the distance, so just in case, we ran into an empty classroom and shut the door behind us. Daniella locked it using some fancy-looking spell. Ravenclaw.

"I think he's gone," she said after a moment of pressing her ear against the door. "I can't hear him."

"Sure," I panted heavily. "I – think – we –"

"Aw, did someone not have their coffee this morning?" she teased, wrapping her arms around the back of my neck.

"Excuse me for not being an athlete," I grumbled, my heart finally slowing. Sort of. It didn't really slow that much around Daniella.

"Whatever," she said cheerfully, almost giddily. "Did you see his face?"

"Yeah," I answered, grinning. "That's the end of his obsession with his hair. Maybe he'll act like a human being by the time his hair grows back."

She laughed and brought her forehead to mine. "Just another obsession, huh?"

"Maybe for him."

"So what about me?"

"You're more of an addiction," I admitted.

Daniella laughed again. "Like coffee?"

I nodded and kissed her gently, smiling. "Sweeter."


End file.
